


In the Space You Used to Be

by AceQueenKing



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Moving In Together, Moving On, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:00:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: Etta and Diana help fill all the spaces left behind by those lost in the war.





	In the Space You Used to Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geckoholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/gifts).



1.

Diana moves from the front in a haze.

She gathers close to soldiers, villagers; men, women, even children who cry out at her in two tongues that the war is over. Surely, it must be, for Ares is gone and the people no longer fight. Once, she had thought the same. Now? Now she feels nothing.

She is numb.  She embraces the villagers and soldiers and squadmates and smiles even as the static dumbness grows within her. All she can think of is _gone, gone_ ; Steve, a bright spark that blinded her eyes and has left her deaf and blind. Still, she smiles. She has to. Steve sacrificed too much for her not to honor it by hugging these people, by sharing in their joy that the worst, at least for this moment, is over.  

She falters only once when Charlie comes to her, his eyes wet and soft.  He presses something into her hands and she looks down and gasps at the burned and folded flag now held in her suddenly frail fingers. 

"Boys in the trench wanted to give it to Steve and you for saving 'em back in the village and now, well, Iit'sink its best you have it." His eyes, always haunted, have become more so, and she knows that he’s added another to his lengthy list of ghosts today. His hand shakes slightly as he presses the slim package into her hands.

"Thank you," she says. She doesn't know much about the modern nations, but she understands the idea of taking pride in her homeland. And she is grateful. At least Charlie has given her something to hold onto, a patch to hold over the space left story in her life with Steve gone.

Clutching it, she realizes where she must go.  She isn't the only one left behind.

2.

When she returns to England, Etta is waving toward her, her bright face almost painful in its intensity and Diana doesn't understand. How could she be so happy when there is so much space left silent?

Etta presses herself around Diana, a comforting softness.  They strand together, a silent, standing memorial to the dead until Etta whispers, "I'm thankful at least one of you came back."

And oh, how that breaks Diana's heart, the calm with which she says it. She realizes in an instant that Etta was prepared to lose them both; had expected them all to go off to war and never come back. What could have made her so used to sacrifice> Diana wonders. She feels sorrow and the tears flow from her shoulders.

Etta makes a soft and wretched little noise and Diana realizes she isn’t happy at all, just trying to keep it together, and it makes her cry harder. They cling together like that, two women united by grief, until Etta pulls back, shakes her head.

“Look at us,” she says,  clicking her tongue. “Crying like babies. Lord, how Steve would look if he could see us.” She grabs Diana’s hand, warm and soft, and smiles through runny make-up and sad eyes. “Come on, love; let’s go home and have a spot of tea.”

3.

Diana carries Steve’s flag reverently through the streets of London, and keeps it in her hands, still, as she sits in Etta’s apartment. The deafening silence rings loudly in her ears, the continuing consciousness of how little there is left for her in this world now.  Etta’s apartment is a whirlwind of unknown sights and sounds; the hiss of some sort of vessel in the kitchen, the buzz of a radio playing in the background. There are pictures up on Etta’s walls; just two, both young boys, both in uniform. She recognizes neither.   Odd furniture with harsh fabrics; a dress hanging up in the corner that looks _highly_ uncomfortable. A tube of some sort of red-stained wax that clings to her fingers when she inspects it. So much she does not understand in this world which is not her own.

The only thing that keeps her grounded is Etta talking to her.  “You know that  Sir Patrick Morgan’s done a runner? Boy, hard to believe that brass hat would go AWOL, but he’s not been around the base for a couple days now and all the secretary’s tongues are waggin’.”

“I know.” Diana says, trying to figure out how to tell Etta the story. “He won’t be returning.”

“Oy, you’re a pessimist, now,” Etta says, chuckling. “You remind me of Mildred, in Accounting. She’s saying he’s run off with some French maid and gone back to America, hiding out the war out there.”

Diana tenses, about to explain, triying desperately to find the proper words, but then a loud and piercing mechanical scream pierces through the living room from the kitchen, and Diana pulls her sword from her scabbard and runs out into the kitchen.

“’S just the tea,” Etta says, laughing. “No evil to be conquered here.”

“I’ve never had tea,” Diana says. Etta openly gawks at her, and she looks behind her for a moment, alarmed at the prospect that she has, or that Ares or something worse lies waiting behind her.  There is nothing. She relaxes, turns back, and asks Etta, “Is it like ice cream?”  
  
“Better.” Etta grins and slides one to her. “Much better.”

Diana sips and even though it is not as good as Ice Cream, it isn’t bad, and she smiles.

“Come on,” Etta says, and pulls her hand, and takes her into the living room, each of them balancing tea and saucers and for once the clatter feels welcome and it’s not until she’s sitting back on the couch that she realizes she left Steve’s flag behind.

4.

“What is it you’ve brought there?” Etta asks, but not until they’ve finished their tea, the last dregs of some sort of herbal substance all that remained.

“A flag,” Diana says, softly. “Some of the boys where we were, they wanted Steve to have it, and now…”

Silenced reigns through the small apartment once more. Etta gently shakes her head and presses it back toward her. “I was just his secretary, love. You should keep that. Have something to hold onto. Like I do for Jerry and Robert." She gestures to the two portraits above her.  
  
"Jerry and Robert?" She scans their faces once more but sees nothing there that helps her identify them. They are two young men, their eyes bright and mouths enclosed in tight smiles.   
  
"My brothers. Joined up early, going on a "great adventure" to fight the Jerries. Used to rag on Jer, you know, _ironic_ , a Jerry fighting the Jerries." Etta ducks her head down a moment to dab her eyes with a tissue before looking back up at her. "They were killed early on. Some of the first to get shipped back to England, you know?" 

"I am sorry for your loss," Diana says, wondering if Etta feels the emptiness inside of her, too. But she is still here, and that, perhaps, is the most important thing. 

"Nothing to be done about it." Etta leans forward, her hand grabbing Diana's own. "What will you do now, Diana?"  
  
"I don't know." She pursed her lips, thinking. "I don't think I can go back to my home, not yet, anyway. There's so much more here I'd like to discover, like tea, and ice cream."

"That's the spirit." Etta claps her hands, seemingly eager to stop the talk about those they've left behind. "Do you have a place to stay, Diana?"  
  
"Not as such." She shakes her head, frowning. "I ...don't know how you would go about that."

"Well, I'll teach you. We girls have to stick together, you know? And for now, you can stay here. Be nice to have some company some time."

"Yes," Diana says, and smiles. "It would be nice to have some company." 

 5.

The flag is hung between the two portraits of Jerry and Robert. It's perhaps an odd attraction, an American flag hung in an English and Thymescrian woman's flat, but no one questions them on it. They keep the records or the radio on; Diana reads books on art and literature in the human world and curls up on a couch between Steve and Etta, between past and present. Even as she moves on, she still takes time to press her hand from time to time to the flag, and remind herself of all the things left behind. 


End file.
